


The Stars That I See Watching Me

by KittyAug, KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Series: Of Hunters and Hellblazers [10]
Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Car Sex, Constandean, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Explicit Sexual Content, Impala Sex, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Louisiana, M/M, Pre-Series, Sex in the Impala, Swamp Thing Cameo, Top John Constantine, swamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2952962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Literally hot and steamy sex in the Impala while Constantine and Dean are parked up at a Louisianan Bayou. Features a small interruption by a hulking figure from John's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars That I See Watching Me

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song _Ship Of Dreams_ by Nazareth... because reasons.
> 
> Tiny tiny bit of plot. If you squint and read the rest of the series - but if you don't want to read the porn you can skip this one. Its mostly smut.
> 
>  **Note for the rest of the world:** 96°F is about 35°C - so basically Dean is a whiny Mid-western baby but hey that is still kinda hot for night time in autumn.

The Impala was going to smell like cigarettes and sex for days. But right now Dean couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than how fucking good he felt. Even his baby’s upholstery came second when the sex was this good. He hadn’t really meant to end up in the backseat with John Constantine. It just kind of happened. It always did. And fuck it. They were alive. If anything was going to prove it this would. And Dean really wanted to prove it tonight.

John had managed to wrangle Papa Midnight, some big shot Creole magician, and his sister into helping them with the red voodoo thing. Dean had felt weird about being side-lined in his own case. But it turned out to be a good thing. It had still been messy and gross, though. Seriously, they were the worst kind of witches. And John had ended up spilling a lot of his own blood into the spell they needed to break the final curse. Letting the Loa move through him. That had freaked Dean out way more than he was willing to admit. So it wasn’t any wonder that they ended up like this.

It was so much easier to have this conversation through touch than words.

They were parked up in a deserted lookout near a bright green bayou. Half way between the case and as far from it as they could get. Middle of nowhere, Louisiana. And it had been 96° all day. Even now it had barely dropped off. The heat made everything oppressive. Heavy and cloying, like even the air was dripping dark magic and bitter sin. Like every breath of earth and green could drown you.

Dean’s skin glistened with tingling sweat in the moon light. It should have cooled him down but it was just getting hotter with every slide of skin on sweat slick skin. The only relief from the heat was the occasional cool slide of his amulet across his bare chest.

John was still high from the magic. Eyes wide and overly aware of every movement and sensation. But fuck was it hot. He kissed like his life depended on it. A firm hand on the back of Dean’s neck pulling him down into furious, bruising, biting kisses. Moving with more force and determination than he had in any previous encounter. His blond hair was even more messed up than usual and he was breathing hard. Watching Dean’s every move like a starved predator. Surging fast to bite into the hunter’s lip or pulling hard and almost bruising where his hand dug into the flesh of Dean’s ass.

The heavy rock sound of Nazareth pounding from the front seat seemed to match the intensity. Dean could feel the bass in his blood. The leather groaned in protest every time the Hellblazer bucked up but Dean mirrored it. Whimpering, moaning and muttering for more – not caring how slutty he sounded. And every hushed sound spurred the magus to do it again heedless of the poor upholstery.

The back seat wasn’t really big enough for two grown men. In fact Dean hadn’t hooked up in the Impala for years. Not just out of respect for her upholstery but also out of respect for his own neck.

Yet somehow they had managed to make it from outside and drinking, to making out on the hood to naked in the back seat. And even in the overwhelming heat he wasn’t going to complain. They were crushed together by both desire and necessity. Hot jolts of lust fueled friction with every movement. Every slip and slide. Every canting arch and grinding kiss.

Dean knew he couldn’t take much more of that. The sight of the other man already so debauched combined with the frantic and furious pace was pushing him near the edge. And if they were doing this then they were doing it right.

He pulled back from the kiss letting his chest slide long and slow across the exorcist before he finally pushed himself up. The sudden loss of contact left him cold but he knew his current mission would be worth a few moments of distance. He scrambled most of the way into the front seat and reached into the glove box. One knee hooked up on the back of the front seat and the other led at an angle in the back foot well.

“Fuck me,” Constantine said, forcing himself to sit up in the middle of the back seat so he could watch Dean twist and stretch before him. Skin glossy with sweat and moon light. A temptation and a promise wrought in human flesh.

“Nope,” Dean said and looked back over his shoulder with an evil smile.

He was glad he did. Because he got to watch as Constantine bit his lip and stretched back. Mumbling something that sounded a lot like: “Gonna be the death of me, Winchester.”

Dean finally found what he was looking for and tossed the little bottle back over his shoulder. Forcing John to scramble for it while the hunter wriggled back into the back seat. Then he kept going. Until he was on his knees on the floor propped between the Hellblazer’s legs. He looked up at the older guy through his lashes. He had the condom packet between his teeth and he could guess what that looked like.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Constantine said, taking the little foil package from Dean’s teeth but not putting it on. Just watching the hunter and stretching his arms out across the back of the seat. Smirking and waiting for the next move. This had just become Dean’s show and they both knew it.

Dean returned the smug smile. Then he licked a long hot stripe up the Hellblazer’s thigh. Tasting salt and smoke. Indulging in the groaning sound it elicited. Allowing his hands to roam over the other man’s body as he kissed and bit closer to his final goal. Adding his breath to the already sultry atmosphere in the car as he huffed and whispered against the Hellblazer’s straining dick. Looking up again and locking their gaze as he finally licked a long wet strip over the velvet skin. Slipping the head into his mouth and sinking down.

They’d been hooking up on and off since the Vetala incident a week ago. By now Dean’s gag reflex was back to non-existent. Something he guessed even Constantine would never be able to match. It felt like a victory in the battle ground of their interaction. Of course, the exorcist never seemed to mind letting him win this particular contest.

Constantine’s breath caught and his hands scrabbled for purchase on the ancient leather. One hand came down and tugged into Dean’s hair. Hard and unprompted. He was learning. Dean moved as fast and smooth as he could in the confined space. Digging his fingers into Constantine’s side and thighs, leaving red trails on salt damp skin. Closed his eyes and threw himself into the moment. Indulging in every inch of hard flesh and soft skin. Sweet salt and flesh under his tongue. Adding a hint of teeth just to hear that soft hissing tug of breath.

The hand in his hair tugged. Sharp. Trying to pull him back. Dean opened his eyes to glare up at the Hellblazer. Who laughed. Bastard.

“Look luv, God knows I’m easy but… if you want to do more than that you… really ought to… stop.”

Dean rolled his eyes but pulled off – even if it was devastatingly slow. He couldn’t help the coil of self-satisfaction at how breathless Constantine sounded. Crawling back up the Hellblazer’s body until he could straddle him. His own neglected cock pressed into the sweat hot skin of John’s stomach. Finally forced into blessed friction by the confines of the car and the press of hunter to Hellblazer. He buried a hand in that messy blond hair to guide them into a smooth kiss. Hot but languorous; giving his partner a moment to pull back from that burning edge.

He pulled back when the kiss turned filthy again. Canting, writhing and decadent. Damp, rough, needy skin catching on his own as he moved. He hunted for the bottle of lube on the seat next to them. Then Dean stretched back as far as he could go in the tight space. Extending an arm along the top of the front seat behind him. Using the other to slide wet and cold into the burning needy heat of his own body. Neck tilted awkwardly so he could hold eye contact. But hot damn was it worth it.

Constantine looked wrecked already. He was breathing hard, his hair was a mess and even in soft light his eyes were blown and lips bitten. The moon filtered through steamed windows and washed the color out of the scene. Deepening the shadows on every curve, sharp line and smooth hollow in the Hellblazer’s body. Glinting off sweat and saliva. This was the man’s element. Pure debauchery and visceral sin. Given over to the bitten off moments of sex and moon light. Trying to balance out the hellfire. And every ounce of hell hot focus was centered on Dean opening himself up. It was exhilarating to have all that raw primal energy concentrated on him.

“Oh fuck…” the exorcist whispered when Dean added a second finger.

“Soon,” Dean smirked. “Really, fucking, soon.”

The Hellblazer surged forward at that. Sensing the challenge and rising to it. Skimming a hand up along Dean’s thigh and using the other to dig into his hip and pull the hunter closer. Dean’s breath hitched as Constantine took control. Adding his own fingers to Dean’s. And when had he even got the lube anyway? Kissing and biting across Dean’s chest. Sucking vicious little marks and grazing his teeth over each nipple. Just to feel the younger man squirm against him.

“Oh god…” Dean whimpered. And yeah it was a whimper. So what. Fuck that felt good.

“Not really,” this time it was John’s turn to smirk his words into flushed skin.

“You sure?” Dean mumbled through panting breathing. The exchange was a repeat from the first time they hooked up. Dean remembered those words, and the whole night, it had burned into his memory. Probably branded into his fantasies for the rest of his life.

The Hellblazer laughed. And Dean could feel it. Inside him. A shuddering vibration where he was sliding down hard over the exorcist’s hand. He gasped at the sensation. He could feel Constantine smile against his skin. Then “I can do better ‘n that, luv.” John hooked his fingers forward finding just the right angle. And pressed his advantage, biting Dean’s nipple as he stroked firm against that sweet spot.

Dean was aiming to say something along the lines of ‘oh fuck that felt good’ but it came out as some kind of incoherent primal sound. It seemed to get the message across anyway because the Hellblazer repeated the action with his teeth on the other side this time. Dean used his own still slick hand to relieve some of that burning tension. Not too much he wanted this to be good. Better. Fucking amazing.

“I am so- fucking- ready…” Dean managed, after a few false starts. Talking was difficult through heaving breath and murky bayou air. Aching in anticipation. Constantine laughed again and fuck that felt way better than it should. Looked damn good too. But then he was slipping his fingers free and frowning while he searched for the condom. Leaving Dean in a sticky sweet mess of expectation.

Dean had the urge to slide the rubber on with his tongue, an old rent boy trick that he should’ve never needed again. Built to impress and really hard to top (ha, not literally). But it would be too awkward and he was exactly where he wanted to be. So he let Constantine fumble and swear his way through wrapping himself up. Dean held his breath. Effectively circumventing any over eager whimpering. What was it about John Constantine that turned him into a whimpering, begging mess anyway?

He didn’t give anymore quarter, after that. The moment the condom was on and lubed up Dean took back control. Shifting his weight and moving forward. Wrapping his arms around Constantine’s neck and sliding down on top of him. The Hellblazer gasped as he breached the tight muscle. Dean started kissing him, keeping him distracted.

Dean moaned into the exorcist’s mouth and he slowly forced his way down further. The older man stayed still, hands light on Dean’s hips and back, letting him take his time. Take what he wanted. And fuck it felt awesome. A once familiar stretch and burn and the angle dug in just where he wanted it. Each inexorable inch sent jolts of hot bliss through his body. Adding to the deep aching tension bedding down in his bones. Kissing through the hot burn and building pressure.

Just when Dean thought he couldn’t spread out any wider and get any closer Constantine bucked up to meet him for the last inch. To finally slide home. Dean broke the kiss and arched back, breathing in heavy little huffs. Fuck this was what he’d been longing for since he first drove out to meet the Hellblazer weeks ago. Deep and hard and real. Constantine was kissing him again. Rough but sensual. Languid, even, like they had all the time in the world and he wasn’t absolutely desperate to just thrust in hard.

Dean took a deep breath and started to move. A firm rocking, pulling at all the right places. Slow but unrelenting. Constantine finally started to move with him. Rolling his hips in time with Dean’s body. And oh god. Constantine had slid a hand between them somehow. The other still held Dean tight against him but this one had found the hunter’s throbbing cock. Moving in time with that deep, deliberate pace. An almost leisurely slide of skin on skin. Tugging sweet pleasure and biting moans from the younger man.

Pushing his advantage Dean started to speed up the rhythm. Constantine caught on quickly. Thrusting up harder and holding on tighter. Soon turning the kiss fast and teeth edged, too. Dean thought he’d been on edge the whole time but now he realized that the old tension was nothing compared to what was coming. His whole body started to heat. His toes fucking curled. Slamming into something heavy and primeval. A burning heat pushes and rushes, pounding through him.

They’re fucking in earnest now. And Dean is begging and scrambling against the Hellblazer like some rabid incubus. Constantine is kissing into his neck because he lost the ability to kiss back. Overridden by each heady rolling wave brining him moments closet to ecstasy.

“Are you going to come for me, Winchester?” Constantine whispers all smoke and gravel across his ear. And fuck that’s his weakness. Then the Englishman’s teeth are on his earlobe. That’s it. He’s coming hard. Pulses hot and sticky on their already damp skin. Mouthing Constantine’s name into the man’s flesh.

The Hellblazer pulls him down into a crushing kiss. Fucks him hard through each blistering aftershock. And just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore. Because every thrust is still hitting that bundle of nerves and sending sparks through him. Thinks he’s going to fucking melt. Or drown in sensation. Then, finally, Constantine’s rhythm became erratic.

Dean pulled away and pushed back hard. Taking over full control. Leaning his whole body into the motion. Watching Constantine closely and drinking in every flinch and aching arch. The exorcist had his arms out and head back just lying back and letting Dean keep fucking down. It was incredibly hot to watch someone like that totally fall apart underneath him.

Dean took advantage of the moment of semi-incapacitation to lunge forward. Licking and kissing the sensitive and flushed skin of Constantin’s chest. Locking eye contact as he licked a long line of his own cum off the exorcist. The Hellblazer came with a final arching thrust. There was something insanely intimate in watching a guy’s eyes as he came. Dean could swear he saw a glint of Hellfire. Dean wasn’t sure if he was glad or not when John broke their gaze to bury his face in Dean’s neck. And rode out the last twitch and pulse of pleasure with his teeth on the hunter’s neck to leave one final mark.

Dean slumped forward, letting every last sliver of tension flow out of him. Constantine was peppering little almost affectionate kisses along his neck and shoulders. Waiting for him to decide to be alive again. Dean finally eased himself away, wincing at the loss but flopping down on the seat next to his apparent lover.

“Wow,” Dean muttered, looking up at an ancient stain on his baby’s roof. Panting and trying to regain some semblance of control over his body.

“Hmmm,” Constantine agreed.

Dean was still looking at the stain and trying to decide how long he could deal with being this sticky when he heard it. The distinctive sound of a cigarette being lit. In his car.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Dean demanded, sitting up suddenly. Post orgasmic haze forgotten in the face of smoking inside the Impala.

“Having a fag?” Constantine said.

Dean glared at him. Offended on several levels.

“A cigarette! A smoke… you idiot. Relax. I’m sure you’ve shagged as many women as I have. Even if you do like the occasional devilishly handsome bloke as well. Perfectly natural.” Dean couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss him or hit him when he gave that particular smirk.

“I knew what you meant,” Dean said, through gritted teeth. “I wanted to know why you’re doing it in my car!”

“Because I’m naked and covered in your spunk, mate?”

That was actually a good point. Except they were in the middle of nowhere and it was still at least 80° outside. Dean plucked the cigarette out of Constantine’s hand. While the expression this earned him was still pretty smug it was at least a bit surprised. So he’d call it a win.

Dean balanced the lit cigarette between his lips while he scrambled around in the foot well for his jeans. He found his boxers too which he used to wipe himself vaguely clean. Or cleaner at least; then threw them to the Hellblazer for the same purpose. He wrangled his way into his jeans. Then he snatched the cigarette packet out of Constantine’s hands before he could light another and thrust the car door open.

It let in fresh swampy air mixing with the smoke and sex smell of the car. It should have been gross but even in light of the _smoking in the frigging car_ Dean still felt satiated. It made the heady air almost satisfying too if only by association. He pushed himself out of the car taking John’s cigarettes with him but not bothering to look back at the Hellblazer himself.

The air was still humid. Heavy on his bare chest and clinging to the fabric of his jeans. God did he feel good though. There was something about being completely and literally fucked that made anything, even the bayou, seem sweeter. He had bruises and was going to feel it for days. Cassie had said it was something to do with endorphins. You could actually get addicted to sex, rough sex in particular. And yeah, that sounded right. He took a long drag on his stolen cigarette.

The swamp was alive even this late at night. The tape had long since run out letting the sounds of the swamp reign. Things moved in the water and insects and night birds chirped all around. Something hissed far off. Frogs sang. It was pleasant. He continued smoking, leaned back against the driver’s door and waited.

There was a bit of swearing going on inside the car, a distressing thump, more swearing. Then, eventually, Constantine himself emerged from the car.

He’d cleaned himself up and pulled on his trousers. Even thrown his shirt back on although it was still fully open. The tie was long gone. Probably still in the grass actually. Dean realized he’d probably put the used condom in the car’s trash bag. Great. He’d have to remember to empty that and air the car out before he saw his dad again. Not that Dad would be able to tell that he was having _gay_ sex in the Impala just from that. But still. He would rather avoid any questions about it at all.

He chuckled to himself when he wondered what John Winchester might do if he found out his eldest son was fucking the Hellblazer. Dean knew enough to know it wouldn’t be pretty. But he wondered if Constantine's reputation would help or hinder the inevitable confrontation.

Constantine came to rest against the car beside him. Dean handed over the cigarette packet but kept the one he had almost finished. The clove scented burn was actually kind of nice. And it always reminded him of the first time. They stared out over the moonlit bayou in silence. Watching smoke curl and mysterious animals move.

“Hey, do you think you could take my Dad?” Dean asked, breaking the silence at last.

“What?” the demonologist sounded horrified.

“My Dad, great hunter, ex-Marine. But you’re the frigging Hellblazer. If you had to, do you think you could take him on? In a fight?”

“That’s some impressive daddy issues, Winchester.”

“That’s not… I was just curious,” Dean said. “Wondered what might happen. If he found out about… this.” He waved vaguely toward the Impala and himself then the bayou. Didn't actually include John in the gesture but it was implied.

“Don’t know,” Constantine said, eyes narrowed. “Maybe. Generally I blag my way out of shite. If I can’t talk or con my way then I’ll kick ‘em in the bollocks. If that doesn’t work running away is good… or magic if I’m in a corner. Or, you know, get someone pretty to do the hard work for me.” He ran a thumb softly over Dean's jaw as though his meaning hadn't been totally clear.

Dean rolled his eyes. Moving to throw the cigarette butt into the swamp but Constantine grabbed his wrist – quicker than you might expect.

“Trust me, lad, you don’t want to find out what happens if you leave a _mess_ here.” Constantine took the cigarette from him and pinched it out before adding the butt back into the packet to deal with later. Then doing the same with his own.

“What do you mean _this place_?” Dean asked.

“Its… special.”

“We didn’t just fuck on some ‘ley lines’ or some shit did we?”

Constantine just shrugged. Dean sighed.

The Hellblazer pocketed his cigarettes, pushed himself away from the car then spun around so he was standing in front of Dean. Moving cautiously like Dean was some little fluffy thing that might startle. Yet still serpentine and full of animalistic grace. It secretly fascinated Dean how John could move the way he does – so many big gestures and mobile expressions yet he was always in control. Even when he flailed or threw his limbs about there was something there that caught him. Some part that never let go. And that part was all serpent.

Dean just watched him come in closer and raised an eyebrow. He was reminded again of the first time they hooked up but the situations are reversed this time. It’s Constantine who places his hands either side of Dean. On the Impala rather than a kitchen bench but the end result is the same. Dean pinned in place while the exorcist looked him up and down. Then moved even closer so their lips were almost touching. Catching the hunter's eye. Daring him.

This time Dean knows who kisses first. It’s Dean. He can’t help himself. Even though he knew he was giving ground by making a first move in the strange game they play. Yet again Dean finds that, when it comes to John Constantine, he just doesn’t care about the things he should. Tangles his hands in soft cotton and pulls him in close. Gives in to temptation and that smug smile, so full of original sin. Lets the smell of smoke and feel of stubble on his skin scrape away everything else. Right then and there in a swamp, in another man’s arms, he could forget about Dad. Forget about Sammy. Just focus on the here and now.

He secretly liked this as much as the sex. The way the Hellblazer kisses him with no end goal beyond that indulgence. It’s scorchingly sensual human contact for its own sake. Even more secretly Dean thinks he could get used to it. That’s something he barely even lets himself consider. He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows that this, whatever it is they have, is as destructive as it is beneficial and as transient as it is transcendental. As if proving the thought Constantine pulled back so suddenly that Dean almost stumbled.

“I won’t be ‘ere much longer,” John said and shrugged. “So you don’t have to worry about your- daddy issues. He put you off for what, ‘nother week? I’ll be gone before you lads meet up again. He'll never know.”

He watched Dean closely. Trying to gauge his reaction? Waiting for something. But what?

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said and shrugged as well. For want of a better response.

“Good,” Constantine smirked. That was firmer ground. Then they were kissing again. And that was even more stable. Dean knew how to deal with kissing. Kiss back. It dragged on, seductively simple. Hot and sweet in the swampy dark. Dean was just starting to wonder if there was any chance of a rematch in the backseat. Maybe on the hood? Not like there was anyone around to interrupt them, right? He was thinking that, in fact, at the exact moment they _were_ interrupted.

There was a lot of splashing first. Then a great groaning creaking sound from the swamp. It sounded like some vast monster was emerging from the depths. Dean was immediately on alert. Surprising even himself when he tensed up ready to push the Hellblazer behind him if necessary.

“Bugger,” John whispered but he didn’t seem as concerned as he should. He did turn around though to face the, well yes it was a fricking swamp monster. Lichen and vines and green goo and everything. Fantastic.

 _“Constantine…”_ the monster growled. Groaned? Creaked? _“You have something for me?”_

“Alec. Didn’t have to drag yourself all the way down here, mate. We were just about to head up river and find you.”

_“That did not appear to be… what you were… just doing."_

“Hmph. You ought’a be grateful you know, Swampy. Amount of bloody energy we just fed back into your sacred muck. I hardly even siphoned off the top. Very generous I thought.” He was lighting a cigarette and smirking. Of course he was. Never mind the swamp monster, time for a smoke!

“What the fuck is going on,” Dean hissed. He was impressed that he didn't sound even more freaked out actually. This thing looked like a wendigo, an Ent, and Nessy all got together and had a giant mutant baby.

“Oh right. Manners. What was I thinking,” Constantine said. Then, with an exaggerated sweeping gesture towards the monster, “This is Alec Holland, bio scientist, elemental and vegetable extraordinaire.” Another flourish this time towards Dean. “And _this_ is Dean Winchester. Hunter. And damn good shag- if I do say so.”

Constantine threw an arm over Dean’s shoulders and smirked up at the monster. Dean sighed and eyed the monster named Alec. Why did everything with John Constantine have to get so frigging complicated?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I has a Tumblr - [kittyaugust.tumblr.com](http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/)


End file.
